Ah, the World Cup.
A time when even the laziest, most retired of ex-bloggers comes crawling out of his cave, dusts off the laptop, hurriedly deletes his browser history, and then creates a nonsense post.
This post is especially lazy because it is a shameless rehash of my original drinking game from 2015, which was something of a success. I remain proud of it, even though there is something slightly depressing about producing three years of concise and witty rugby analysis only to be solely remembered for a gimmick which inevitably led to several quotes for new carpets and a case of severe food poisoning for scoffing a dodgy 2 a.m. kebab.
Nevertheless, with baby number one due imminently, chances for competitive and over-indulgent revelry may be few and far between for me going forward. With that in mind, please feel free to copy and share the above and enjoy (responsibly [I have to say that for legal reasons]) - here's to a cracking RWC 2019.
P.S. Please keep your eyes and ears peeled for info on the future of this blog, which may appear in Podcast form. Potentially accompanied by the background noise of a screaming child.
